


Since I've Been Loving You

by PosseMagnet



Series: Bad Boys Get Spanked [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting, Bottom Sam, Bruises, Choking, M/M, Nipple Play, Nipple Torture, Pain Kink, Painplay, Persistent Dean Winchester, Rough Sex, Sibling Incest, Singing, Song Lyrics, Top Dean, Wincest - Freeform, singing dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 09:24:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14517408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PosseMagnet/pseuds/PosseMagnet
Summary: Post-hunt, both Winchesters were eager to fuck out the frenetic energy and adrenaline leftover from the hunt.It took Dean a lot longer to burn through this excess energy than it did Sam.Sam liked to bask in the afterglow far too long for Dean’s liking.





	Since I've Been Loving You

**Author's Note:**

> Facebook prompt "We all know Dean loves Zeppelin! No time limit or word limit, but must include any lyric from the band and one brother or the other must sing it to the other!"
> 
> Since "Overkill" is my middle name (pleased to meet'cha), I used the whole song.
> 
> Song: Since I've Been Loving You by Led Zeppelin
> 
> I don't own this song. Thanks for reading.

Post-hunt, both Winchesters were eager to fuck out the frenetic energy and adrenaline leftover from the hunt.

 

It took Dean a lot longer to burn through this excess energy than it did Sam.

 

Sam liked to bask in the afterglow far too long for Dean’s liking.

 

Flushed from a hard fuck, his tan skin decorated with dark rings of bites from his brother’s teeth, ass cheeks welted with raised imprints of Dean’s hands, and sweaty hair knotted from being clenched in Dean’s iron grip. Sam’s outsides are tattooed with Dean almost as intensely as his insides are.

 

But after, he likes to lie there and just… _feel_ things. The throb of the toothy bruises that ring his nipples. The way the sharp sting in his ass from Dean’s big hands slapping down on the soft skin goes straight down to the bone. The same bones that ache from being thrown to the ground, or into a wall, who even knew. The twinge in his ass that says he’s glad Deans done for now, but at the same time is loose and soft, and eager to be used again.

 

Dean watches Sam, admiring his brother. Beautifully fuckable, covered in Deans marks, he’s all hard muscle and soft skin. He’s beautiful in a way Dean could never articulate with words.

 

Adrenaline still burns through him though. He’s already half hard again, and his fingertips tingle with the need to take Sam apart again.

 

He huffs a breath, close enough to Sam to ruffle the dark hairs of his armpit. When Sam doesn’t stir, he huffs again, and shifts so his dick presses against Sam’s hip. Still nothing from Sam. He pouts.

 

He leans down to nibble at the shell of Sam’s ear. He whisper-breathes the first strains of the song that was playing in the Impala as they drove home. A Zeppelin song Dean’s known by heart since Sam was old enough to walk.

 

_“Working from seven to eleven every night,_

_Really makes life a drag,”_

 

He rolls Sam’s earlobe between his teeth, breaking off to continue,

 

_“I don’t think that’s right.”_

 

Sam groans. It’s halfway between annoyance and arousal.

Dean smiles and sings a little louder as he moves away from Sam’s ear and down to the hard ridge of his Adam’s apple.

 

_“_ _I’ve really been the best, the best of fools,_

_I did what I could,_ _‘_

_Cause I love you, baby.”_

 

Sam’s happy noise rumbles through his chest, and he cracks his eyes open to find Dean’s bright green eyes looking intently back at him.

 

_“How I love you, darling,_

_How I love you, baby.”_

 

Sam gripes, “Dean… don’t.”

 

_“My beloved little… boy, baby boy,”_

 

Dean smirks at Sam as he changes the lyrics to his filthiest nickname for Sam.

 

Sam rolls his eyes and lets them fall closed again when Dean starts sucking at the bruises around his nipples.

 

“Fuck, Dean,” he breathes quietly. He drags his fingers through his brother’s short hair, pulling and tugging it between his fingers.

 

_“But baby, since I’ve been loving you, yeah_

_I’m about to lose my worried mind,”_

 

He pinches Sam’s nipples hard, rolling them between his fingers. His brother arches off the bed with a strangled cry of, “More!”

 

Dean’s rich voices raises to be heard when Sam cries out,

 

_“Everybody tryin’ ta tell me,_

_That you didn’t mean me no good._

_I_ _’ve been trying,_

_Lord, let me tell you,_

_Let me tell you—I really did the best I could.”_

 

He knees in between Sam’s long legs, splaying them out when he kneels between them, stooping to bite at the taut skin around the divot of Sam’s belly button.

 

“God, Dean,” Sam groans, “Harder.”

 

Dean sings breathy and deep, lips grazing Sam’s skin delicately between bites.

 

_“I’ve been, I’ve been working from seven to eleven every night,_

_I said—it kinda makes my life a drag, drag, drag, drag,_

_Lord, that ain’t right, no, no.”_

 

He presses back up, toward Sam’s scarlet nipples again, sucking hard on the hot, pebbled skin. Their cocks grind against each other when Dean pushes their hips together.

 

Sam whines, “Dean, stop singing and fuck me, please. C’mon, man. Have mercy.”

 

Dean quirks an eyebrow at Sam, wordlessly and unmistakably saying he’d stop singing when he damn well felt like it, and he’d damn well get around to dicking Sam when he was ready. To emphasize this, he turns his head to rub his cheek against Sam’s already oversensitive nipple. He starts to sing again, dragging his stubble over Sam’s nipples in time with the slow grind of the rhythm.

 

_“Well, since I’ve been loving you_

_I’m about to lose my mind_ ,

 

_Watch out!”_

 

Jimmy Page’s guitar solo rumbles out of Dean, sweet like honey and dirty as sin. He soothes his tongue over Sam’s searing skin and pins his wrists to the bed when he tries to push Dean off him.

 

Dean’s lips are impossibly plump when he slides up, face to face with Sam, so their eyes are locked when he continues.

 

_“Said I’ve been cryin’_

_Oh, my tears they fell like rain_

_Don’t you hear them,_

_Don’t you hear them falling?_

_Don’t you hear them,_

_Don’t you hear them falling?”_

 

Sam’s heart hippty-hops in his chest at the softness in Dean’s face, and the way his eyes shine. Dean likes to feign tone-deafness, except around Sam. Sam is the only one who gets to see _this_ Dean. Stripped down, no swagger, no hubris, no bullshit. When Dean lets all his walls down, Sam is the only one allowed in.

 

Then Dean hikes Sam’s legs up to his chest, effectively pulling his head out of the clouds. Calloused fingers drag up Sam’s crack and dip into his messy hole, making Sam moan a curse.

 

_“Do you remember baby, when I knocked upon your door?_

_I said you had the nerve to tell me you didn’t want me no more.”_

 

The fat head of Dean’s cock threads in next to his fingers pulling Sam’s rim enough for it to hurt in such a delicious way. The pain worms its way into Sam’s heavy limbs, and he quietly begs for more.

 

_“I open my front door, I hear my back-door slam,_

_You know, I must have one of them newfangled,_

_Newfangled back door man.”_

 

Dean pulls his fingers out of Sam, so he can push all the way in, hips flush against ass, so there’s no room for anything else. One long-fingered hand settles over Sam’s throat, thumb squeezing persistent, but carefully over his baby brother’s Adam’s apple. He can feel the rigid flex of it under his fingers as Sam tries to swallow, to breathe.

 

He fucks Sam slow and so fucking deep, matching the grinding song that still spills rough and low from Dean’s lips.

 

_“I’ve been working from seven, seven, seven to eleven every night,_

_I_ _t kinda makes my life a drag, a drag, drag._ _Make me drag.”_

 

Sam’s flushed scarlet from his cheek bones, all the way down to his belly button. The drag of Dean’s cock never relents, and the timing of Dean’s press-release-press against Sam’s throat is flawlessly in tune with Sam’s need to breathe and the thrill of Dean stealing his air.

 

Despite having so many things going on, Dean’s voice doesn’t so much as tremble as he continues, inexplicably, to sing,

 

_“Baby, since I’ve been loving you,_

_I’m about to lose, I’m about to lose, lose my worried mind.”_

 

A subtle shift of his hips drags his cock over Sam’s prostate. Combined with the tingly-lightness of his limbs, the stimulation has him coming on his brother’s dick in short order. Sam’s orgasm overtakes him so unexpectedly, the hot spatters of come across his chest startle him and he clings to Dean in surprise.

 

Dean’s eyes are predatory with lust, his lips show just a little too much of his teeth,

 

_“And just one more, just one more.”_

 

Dean’s blues-sultry voice dies out as Sam’s orgasm ebbs, and he releases his brother’s throat. He balls up around Sam, arms around broad shoulders, legs braced on the bed, he dicks Sam fast and hard. He’s finally breathless now, caught in the hot clutch of his brother’s fluttering guts, pounding hard enough to leave ghostly bruises from the impact of his hipbones against Sam’s ass. Sam’s ears barely catch the whispered chant of “ _SamSamSam_.”

 

Sam’s insides are suddenly, impossibly hotter and he can feel Dean’s cock bucking and kicking inside of him. He grinds against Sam until his dick softens, and he pulls out carefully. Come dibbles past the wreckage of Sam’s rim when he withdraws, and he absentmindedly swipes his thumb through it and pops it into his mouth.

 

Sam’s already drifting away in the pull of the afterglow, and this time, Dean mercifully lets him go. Big-brother diligent, he checks Sam over to make sure he’s okay, both from the hunt and from Dean’s overzealous attention. Finding everything to his satisfaction, he pulls Sam against him and finger-brushes his long hair away from his face.

 

He gently kisses Sam’s sweaty temple, and softly croons,

 

_“Since I've been loving you_

_I'm gonna lose my worried mind.”_


End file.
